


An Excellent Memory

by thedevilchicken



Category: Assassin's Creed - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Brasidas (Assassin's Creed) Lives, Developing Relationship, Getting Together, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-22
Updated: 2020-12-22
Packaged: 2021-03-11 03:48:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,718
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28228671
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thedevilchicken/pseuds/thedevilchicken
Summary: Alexios remembers the first time he met Brasidas, and all the times after that.
Relationships: Alexios/Brasidas (Assassin's Creed)
Comments: 3
Kudos: 51
Collections: Mistletoe Exchange 2020





	An Excellent Memory

**Author's Note:**

  * For [linndechir](https://archiveofourown.org/users/linndechir/gifts).



Alexios has an excellent memory. 

He remembers people he's met and where he met them, names, what they wore, the colour of their eyes. He remembers things he's done, how he did them, where and why, the order of events even if he couldn't mark them on a calendar. He remembers his days on Kephallonia, with Markos and then Phoibe, on the rooftop in the sun as Ikaros circled. He remembers Medusa, the Sphinx, and all the other things he can't easily explain, not even to Barnabas though he knows that he'd believe him. He remembers the drop from Taygetos and the day he didn't kill his father there in Megaris. It's all right there.

His mater tells him it's the same for her and though the family trait seems to have skipped Kassandra, Alexios wasn't quite so lucky. Sometimes he remembers more than he'd like to, and so he's learned to live with no regrets. Except, that is, when it comes to Brasidas. 

The warehouse in Korinth where they met is in his memory with all the other things he's done over the years, but it's a time that he returns to more often than most others - he remembers the heat of the flames on his skin and how the Monger's men shouted over the sound of blade on blade or blade to Spartan shield. He and Brasidas moved like one soldier instead of two men and he remembers wondering if that was what the Spartan phalanx felt like, and if he'd never left, been forced to leave, then that might have been his life, almost every day. Mostly, though, he remembers wondering what it might have been like to kiss the blood and ash away from the Spartan stranger's mouth. He didn't, but it was a close-run thing. 

He has an excellent memory, so he knows he's never been subtle. Each time they met over the Monger business, Alexios' gaze would wander to Brasidas' smiling mouth, his spear-callused hands, his suntanned thighs, as he wondered what each of those things might feel like wrapped around him. He knows he wasn't subtle because once the Monger was dead down there in the cave under Korinth, and Anthousa was sufficiently appeased for it, Brasidas took his elbow and guided him aside. 

It was night by then, though Korinth never seemed to sleep, and they stood together underneath the stars. Anthousa's house wasn't exactly as high as the Akrokorinth but there was a view over the city outside and as they stood there, looking out, Alexios expected him to tell him, _well done!_ or _I'm pleased you did this my way_ , or any of a hundred things like that; instead, though, he leaned down against the rail, against the plates over his forearms, and turned his head to smile at him. 

"I seem to have caught your eye," Brasidas said, straightforwardly. And the way that his smile broadened - easily, with a playful twinkle to his eyes - said he didn't mind that fact at all. 

He remembers smiling back, turning, leaning there against the rail. "Have I caught yours, too?" he asked. "Or was that just a general observation?"

Brasidas laughed and looked out over the city. "Yes, you've caught my eye," he said. "You fight like a Spartan, Alexios. It makes me wonder what else you might do like one. If you'd apply the same...vigour." 

"And you'd like to find out?"

"Yes," Brasidas said. "I think I would." 

"Here?" Alexios recalls gesturing around them, theatrical, arms wide. "I don't think Anthousa would want us to defile her terrace that way, no matter who you are in Sparta." 

"Yes, I think my camp might be the safer option. I don't doubt she would devise terribly unpleasant punishments for us if we trampled on her roses in a moment of irrepressible passion." Brasidas drew himself up tall. He cocked his head. "Shall I lead the way?" 

"To irrepressible passion?"

"Is there any other kind?"

If he'd intended to back out, that would have been the moment; of course, he had no intention at all of backing out, and so they left Anthousa's house together to make their way back to Brasidas' camp. The city was quiet, the day's usual bustle having died down to a more casual buzz, and the night air was pleasantly cool - they talked as they walked, no urgency to their pace, which Alexios found...strange, but not unwelcome. Usually, he'd have rushed toward sex with the pace of a bull on the rampage, but the walk was leisurely. The conversation was easy - teasing, yes, but easy, and never once did he feel Brasidas making fun of him. All it did was heighten the thread of tension strung between them until, inside Brasidas' tent, they kissed. 

It was like the warehouse, just like Alexios had hoped for. When he stepped in close in the flickering lamplight, Brasidas met him there. When his fingers started work removing Brasidas' armour, Brasidas was already pulling at his belt. They stripped each other, quickly but not hurriedly, fingers grazing skin, mouth pressing mouth, Brasidas biting at Alexios' bottom lip until he growled and pulled away and pushed him down but even then, they were both smiling. Even then, they both knew exactly what would happen next, and didn't stop till Brasidas' bedroll was an eagerly anticipated mess. 

"Ask for me if you ever find your way to Sparta," Brasidas said, when Alexios was reluctantly dressing. "I'll give you the tour." 

Alexios raised his brows and crossed his arms, half-dressed, chest bare. "Is that _all_ you'll give me?" he asked. 

Brasidas laughed. He was lounging there naked, his head propped up on one hand, the most attractive sight Alexios had seen in months. And when he said, "I can give you that again in the morning, if you'll stay the night," Alexios considered it. Maybe he wasn't known for his long-term relationships as much as for his glorious string of one-night stands, but he considered it - what was one night in another man's bed, after all? He thought about waking up with him, straddling his hips, fucking himself on that long, thick cock, and it wasn't an unattractive prospect. Maybe he'd have Brasidas after, one calf over his shoulder, face to face so they could talk through it like that was nothing, that was normal. He found he liked the things he said, perhaps even more than the things he did.

But what he did was kneel there at Brasidas' side so he could lean down and steal a kiss, and tell him he'd look forward to seeing him in Sparta. They both knew, he thinks, that neither of them ever expected that they'd see one another again, but the idea they might was nice. Unexpectedly so, for all the times he'd wanted to revisit past conquests - he didn't even need the fingers of one hand to count that.

They met again over the years, here and there, and each time Alexios felt that same exhilarated surge. They clasped arms, smiled, traded blunted barbs in conversations that felt familiar and warm. In Arkadia, he remembers a night at the farm, throwing caution to the wind considering the intention was to lay low for the evening, when Brasidas sat back against the wall and Alexios straddled his lap; he remembers wrapping his hand around the both of them, Brasidas' hand on his, stroking their cocks as they kissed between shared breaths. He remembers the night before Amphipolis, Brasidas' tent, lying naked together as he traced the scar there in Brasidas' thigh. 

"Find me after the battle," Brasidas said, then he raised his brows and trailed his fingers down Alexios' bare chest. "If we both live, that is." 

"We'll live," Alexios remembers saying, almost nonchalant, so full of that belief, and he remembers how his sister almost made a liar of him. He remembers, too, the keenness of his relief when he found out that she hadn't. Perhaps his attachment scared him, and perhaps it ought not to have, but the fact is that they're both back in Sparta now and he can't say he's sought him out. He'll have a scar under his tunic, at his shoulder where the spear went in, where Alexios wants to press his mouth and tell him just how pleased he is that he didn't die that day. He just wonders if the time that's passed has let that pass between them, too. He'd thought at the time that might be best, given the war, the cult, his own wariness to tie himself to anyone; now he knows how wrong he was. He's been tied to Brasidas since the night in Korinth when he didn't stay and should have.

Alexios has an excellent memory. He remembers every time they've spoken, every word they've said, every place they've been to and drop of blood they've spilled. He remembers his hands on him. If he can remember that, he can remember the way to his house - and so now he proves it. He knocks, and he waits, and he wonders. Until the door swings open, and Brasidas looks at him. 

"Well, it's after the battle?" Alexios says, awkwardly, and Brasidas laughs and shakes his head. He claps him on the shoulder, warmly, as his eyes crinkle with a smile. 

"Yes, it definitely is," he replies. "Some time after." But he still waves him inside.

Alexios remembers fights he's had and the stories behind ever scar that's on his body. He remembers every lover he's had, and the way Brasidas takes his hands and steps in close is as familiar as any memory. The way he raises his hand to press his mouth to his palm, the way he says, "So, you found me?" lightly, like he's not asking more than that, makes Alexios' chest feel tight.

"I did," he replies. "Can I stay the night this time?"

"Am I giving you a tour in the morning?"

Alexios raises one brow. "Is that all that you'll give me?

Brasidas laughs as he kisses him, and Alexios understands because he remembers every look Brasidas has given him, right from the start.

He understands now that this has always been the offer. All he's had to do is take him up on it.


End file.
